Last week I was on vacation.
Other than a night away with my wife, I had nothing planned. I spent the week doing those things that I
enjoy and which enhance my life. I read
a couple of books. I wrote a few
pieces. I rode my bicycle. I ran several days in preparation to run a
road race with my son. And I
rested. I didn’t call the office to
check in at church. I didn’t go in each
night, after everyone else had left, to check the mail and clear my desk as I
have done in the past. I stayed away.

Though it has been a long and hard lesson to learn, I have
discovered that I am not nearly as indispensable as I once thought I was. When I first began my works as a pastor, I
believed that just about everything in the congregation was my responsibility –
from the care of the building and grounds to the physical and spiritual
well-being of the members. If the water
fountain wasn’t working, I needed to make certain it was fixed. If someone quit coming to church, I needed to
fix that as well by discovering what I had done to discourage their interest .
. . because surely it was something I had done.
If a new ministry was starting, I needed to be the person out front
leading the charge. When I went on
vacation, I would call into somebody at least once, sometimes more, to check in
on things and coordinate those matters that needed my attention. I was certain
that there was always something that needed my attention. I could go on with the many ways that I
thought I was indispensable to the congregations I was serving, but I think you
get the point.

The humbling lesson I learned over the years was that I had
confused the real needs of the congregations in regard to pastoral leadership
with the needs of my own inflated ego.
This became clear to me about ten years ago, when after saying “Yes” to
every opportunity that was provided to me in the church, the community and the
denomination to feed my ego need to be out front leading (and there were many
such opportunities and most of them worthy causes), I found myself, after a
time, becoming very irritable and angry about people asking so much of me. I was complaining about all the demands on my
time to my wife, Becky. She listened and then said, “You know, Mark, you can
say ‘no’ to some of those things . . . if your ego will let you. Other people are just as capable as you are.” I did not like what my wife said. I was very upset that she did not see the
“servant’s heart” that I was trying to have.
Of course, she was right. I just didn’t want to admit it – that truth
hurt too much.

It all came crashing in on me, literally crashing, a few
weeks after that conversation. While
driving my truck, I blacked out and crashed.
I have no recollection of the wreck.
All I remember is waking up in the emergency room of the local hospital
and being sore all over. Though the doctors offered several possible
explanations of what might have caused me to lose consciousness, there was
never 100% certainty about the cause. As
I reflect back on that time, I have become convinced that my body and mind shut
down from pure exhaustion. It was an exhaustion rooted primarily in the needs
of my own ego. It was a painful lesson
to learn. The truth of my wife’s words
stung. The wreck caused not only physical
pain, but emotional pain as the rumor mill turned about what actually
happened. A painful lesson, yes. But also, for me, painfully necessary.

In the nearly ten years since that event, I have sought to
have more balance in my life. I have
tried to remind myself on a regular basis that though I need to be faithful and
diligent in the leadership I provide, not everything depends on what I do or
don’t do. I spend more evenings at home than
I once did and less at meetings. I do
say “yes” to opportunities that come along now, but I am also much more willing
to say “no.” I remind myself on a regular basis that I’m not the savior for any
person or congregation. My work is to
help folks learn about the one who is the Savior for us all.

I decided to write this article because in this time when so
many congregations are aging and in decline, so many pews empty and resources
dwindling, it is easy for pastors to think it all depends on us – growth, new
energy, new ideas, resurgent budgets, creative programs. We can begin to think if we just work harder
then everything will turn around. The
truth is, all any of us can do, is the best we can. And we can only be at our best when we take
care of ourselves, mentally, emotionally, physically and spiritually. One of the first steps in that process of
well-being is realizing that for any of us, though our leadership is important
in the life of the church, none of us are indispensable. The church existed long before we were around
and it will continue long after we are gone.
We are called simply to be faithful servants during our time . . . and
we can’t be faithful servants of Christ if we think it is all about us.

This is a quote from Dr. Howard Thurman that has had a
growing impact on how I seek to live and provide leadership in the church:

Don’t
ask yourself what the world needs. Ask
yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs most is people
who have come alive.